Friday, November 13, 2015

For
more than two years they’ve been ghosts. Nothing but names on empty
tombstones. Men and women forced to fade into the background after
being pulled from the rubble. Dead Marines saved from a fate worse
than death, but ordered to stand down while their lives disappeared
all around them.

Some
knew it could happen if a mission exploded. Double crossed by more
than just Red Wolf. But now is their time to be reborn from the
flames of a Phoenix. No longer imprisoned in the shadows. A half-life
between them and their future. To make things right coming back to
life is their only option.

Loyalty
is their salvation but damage is always more than skin deep.

A
new hope. A new family. Elite Ghosts.

Target:
Tungsten by Heather Long

Bradley
“Tungsten” Peck. Marine. Lover. Friend. He’s the man who can
get anything, find anyone, and accomplish every goal. At least he
was, before he lost the only woman who mattered…he won’t stop
until he gets her back or she puts a bullet in him.

Zinc's
Heart by Rebecca Royce

Zinc has nothing
to prove--and everything to lose.

Lithium’s
Rescue by Sabrina York

He will save
her…unless she saves him first.

Thallium's
Submission by Anna Alexander

From now on the
only orders he will follow are hers.

Nickel’s
Wounds by Saranna DeWylde

Hell
hath no fury like a Marine who’s lost her way. Beauty was once her
currency, but for a woman who can’t feel anything but agony, she
has nothing left. Except the vengeance that could destroy the one man
whose love could teach her how to save herself.

Titanium’s
Sacrifice by Jennifer Kacey

Titanium.
Warbucks. Commander. Brother. He is all of those things. And none of
them. Giving up everything to save the men and women under his
command was easy until it comes to one…last…sacrifice.

Lithium’s
Rescue by Sabrina York

He will save
her…unless she saves him first.

Michelle
Parsons is on the run. She has evidence of a plot that could destroy
the country, but in order to stop her boss and his extremist cohorts
from taking over the US Senate, she needs to get the information into
the right hands. Trouble is, her contact, the only man she trusts,
has been neutralized.

She’s
all alone. No one can help her.

No
one, but the Elite Ghosts.

It’s
a shame then, that when Benedict Butler—Codename: Lithium—shows
up to bring her in from the cold, she doesn’t know if she can trust
him or not. And when their relationship evolves into something
more…he’s not sure he can trust himself either.

She
does something to him, changes him. Heals him, somehow. And in the
end, it’s difficult to say who rescued whom.

Read
an Excerpt from Lithium’s Rescue!

Michelle
stared at her phone as the realization that Ralley was watching her
every move—had been watching her every move—whipped through her
in a howl of horror. She should have known. She should have guessed.

She
was well aware of ASTCORP’s capabilities—of the sensitive
information they collected and processed…and how they got it. She
should have assumed Ralley would keep the same leash on his
employees.

The
thought of being watched, listened to, spied on infuriated her.

“Fuck
you, Ralley,” she snapped, though he had long ago ended the call.
Still, she was certain he heard. He had ears everywhere.

The
hell she would wait here for someone to come and collect her.

If
Ralley knew everything—and she had to assume he did—she’d never
walk away from such an encounter.

She
went inside and yanked the curtains closed, even though she knew, if
Ralley had eyes on her, he’d be using a thermal scan as well.
Shutting him out made her feel better. Then she quickly collected her
purse, cash stash and a change of underwear—as well as a knife from
the kitchen—and headed for the door.

She
had no idea where she was going, other than away, but that would make
it harder for Ralley to find her. She didn’t have family or friends
outside work. No predictable patterns. She’d slip away in the night
to the bus station or the train station and hop on the first
transport out of town. Wherever it was going, she would—

She
froze as the horrifying sound of a lock snicking shot through the
silent room.

Her
eyes widened. She lifted the knife.

Hell!
Why hadn’t she turned off the lights?

The
door eased open with an eerie creak. No one stood in the opening, but
Michelle knew better. Someone was there. The barrel of a Sig
appeared, capped with a long silencer. Michelle sucked in a breath
and ducked back against the wall. When a hand emerged, she slashed it
with the knife and, when it clattered to the ground, she executed a
roundhouse kick into the doorway in the spot she assumed a face might
be.

She
got it right. Her assailant flew back with a bellow, slamming into
the wall in the hallway. She bolted forward through the door, but he
rallied quickly and caught her around the waist. With a howl, she
kneed him in the crotch and gave him a healthy punch to the kidneys.
She knew all the spots where a man was weak. She’d been trained for
hand-to-hand combat since birth.

But
he was trained too, and he was bigger. Stronger. A stocky, burly sort
with a squashed in face and piggy eyes. And speaking of piggy eyes,
when he slammed into her, launching them both back into her apartment
onto the floor, she gouged at his.

His
response was a clout to her cheek.

It
stunned her, but only for a moment.

A
moment too long.

He
captured both her wrists in one hand and pulled a long KA-BAR from
its sheath.

The
bastard smiled then, revealing a hatred for dentistry. “He wanted
you alive, bitch,” he growled in a thickly accented voice. Russian,
if she wasn’t mistaken. Funny what little details filtered in when
one was about to die. “It wouldn’t be hard to convince him this
couldn’t be helped.”

It
was disturbing, the way his eyes glinted as he set the blade to her
neck, as though slicing it would bring him a great deal of pleasure.

A
flicker of movement behind him caught her attention and her gaze shot
to the doorway. She didn’t even bother to wince when his compatriot
appeared. It was hardly a surprise. These sorts rarely worked alone.

She
didn’t know why her focus locked onto the newcomer’s face, why
something rose within her, a wail of denial, a wash of regret.
Because he was, this second villain, drop dead gorgeous.

In
that second, that fleeting moment of time before she died, a great
wave of sadness swamped her. In another world, another universe,
another dimension, if such things existed, she would want a man like
him. He was tall. Broad. Beautiful.

Their
gazes clashed and his eyes narrowed. A muscle bunched in his cheek.
Something that might have been cold fury rippled over his features.

And
then he moved.

To
her shock, he grabbed her assailant around the neck with a muscled
arm and levered him to his feet. The knife clattered to the floor.
The first man howled and flailed, kicking and scratching at the
second in a frenzy to be free. He whipped down, throwing the second
man over his shoulders and onto the ground—but the beautiful
warrior bounded to his feet and faced his foe with a snarl.

They
circled each other, there in the foyer of her apartment, each taking
the others’ measure. Michelle would have run, but they were
blocking the door, damn it all anyway.

She
grabbed the knife though, as it was in range, and scuttled back. She
needed to be ready to face the victor when this was over. She had no
idea why they were fighting over her, no idea who the second man was,
but it hardly mattered. She wasn’t leaving with either of them. She
didn’t trust anyone.

It
was probably completely idiotic that deep down, in the well of her
soul, she hoped the handsome man won. Being handsome didn’t make
him a good man. In fact, it often meant the opposite.

The
two men came together in a bone-crunching rush. The fight was
furious. Fists and grunts and pummeling. The dull thuds of flesh on
flesh. The crack of bones. The wet retort of splattering flesh.

It
quickly became clear, the pig-eyed man didn’t stand a chance.

The
warrior, the beast, demolished him with clout after ruthless, savage
clout. With one crushing punch, he sent the smaller man teetering
back onto the carpet. He didn’t move.

Michelle
paid him little mind. She kept her eyes on the victor, the large and
looming man with a sinfully beautiful face. Though she held the knife
before her, it trembled.

He
stared down at the broken man and his lips quirked in what might have
been a smile. Or not. He cracked his knuckles and turned his
attention to her. His eyes were cold, emotionless. His expression
harsh.

Her
Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today
Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy
readers. Her titles range
from sweet & sexy to scorching romance. Visit her webpage at
www.sabrinayork.com to check
out her books, excerpts and contests. Get updates, alerts and
giveaway announcements from Sabrina here: http://eepurl.com/bj8tKb.